


The Say Uncle Affair - Epilogue

by blktauna



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-17
Updated: 2014-05-17
Packaged: 2018-01-25 12:09:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1648130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blktauna/pseuds/blktauna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post the A-Team episode.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Say Uncle Affair - Epilogue

"Napoleon... I'm fine, really." Illya's voice held just a touch of exasperation.   
  
Illya Kuryakin lay in Los Angeles HQ's med section. Napoleon Solo hovered over him, a tanned finger tracing a gash near one beautiful blue eye.   
  
"It's just that I'm fifty three and I don't really _like_ escaping from burning vans anymore."   
  
"You never did like it." Napoleon's voice held smooth amusement.   
  
"And I am thankful you are too vain to wear your glasses. You can't hit the broad side of a barn without them now."   
  
Napoleon dared to look affronted.   
  
"Illya, my friend, how can you say such a thing? Besides, _they_ don't know that."   
  
Illya cracked a smile. Napoleon was pleased. Those smiles came far more frequently now that the two of them were more or less retired.   
  
"So, the Chinese were completely taken in." Smug statement of fact.   
  
"Yes, Mr. Tregorin, they were."   
  
Napoleon scooped up Illya's hand and perched on the end of the narrow metal bed. His thumb caressed the back of Illya's hand. Illya relaxed against the pillows.   
  
"I like being Ivan Tregorin. He's made a lot of money for me. You know, that Jaguar is really mine." Illya's smile grew larger.   
  
"Yes, my friend, and I'll bet you bought it used and paid cash."   
  
Illya's laughter rippled through Napoleon's bones. He drank in the sight of his blond partner. The crinkles around his eyes were the only clue to Illya's age. He looked more like thirty five than fifty three. When he had been thirty five he had looked twenty.   
  
"You are giving me that look, moy droog." Illya's voice was low and conspiratorial.   
  
Napoleon smiled evilly. He brushed his lips against Illya's fingers. He noted with satisfaction that his partner's breath skipped a beat.   
  
"Am I?"   
  
Napoleon had the temerity to attempt to look innocent. Illya laughed again.   
  
"Napoleon, when will you finish this assignment? I haven't seen you for this whole year and now you are teasing me! We are supposed to be retired and living the good life."   
  
The beginnings of a pout flashed over Illya's lips. Napoleon wished he could kiss it away.   
  
"Not long now, tovarishch. I just need to get Hannibal and his men settled down. I'll be home in no time."   
  
"Napoleon...," Illya's blue eyes searched Napoleon's face. "I am very sorry about the torture."   
  
Amusement danced over Napoleon's tanned face. "You were far worse during that Gurnius Affair. Besides, you've gotten much better at administering hypos. I thought the Chinese operative was going to spill something before I did."   
  
"Yes. He was quite terrified by me. I can't imagine why."   
  
Napoleon burst into laughter.   
  
"Illya, my God, _I_ thought you were going to bite me and I know you. That poor boy had no idea what you would do or who you would do it to."   
  
"Good. Then I haven't lost my touch." He looked somewhat smug. "I did get some excellent intelligence on their activities. Sir John was pleased."   
  
"And what sort of munitions did you steal?"   
  
Illya's eyes narrowed and he frowned.   
  
"Illya. Our basement looks like the Aberdeen Proving Grounds. Don't frown at me."   
  
"I didn't get any munitions," he said glumly, then, brightening, "but I did pick up some new electronics!"   
  
"Like a kid at Christmas." Napoleon sighed. "But it's time for me to get back, moy droog. I need to be in Washington this evening."   
  
"I miss you, Napoleon. Very much."   
  
Napoleon leaned towards his partner. His hand slipped behind Illya's head, feeling the silk of his hair. Illya's free hand drew Napoleon to him. Their kiss was tender and brief. 


End file.
